


The Bro Whey

by synonym4life



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2000s Hits Bby, Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Humor, Lots of abs everywhere, M/M, Protein, Protein Everywhere, Sexuality Crisis, Singing to Silly Songs, bros, flatmates, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 16:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15368571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonym4life/pseuds/synonym4life
Summary: When Ron and Cormac become flatmates a lot happens at once. A lot of wanking, a lot of sexual frustration, and a lot of figuring it all out. Such is the way of a bro gay.





	The Bro Whey

**Author's Note:**

> [frnklymrshnkly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnklymrshnkly/pseuds/frnklymrshnkly) was so kind as to beta after it was posted. Thank you so much for the quick post-posting beta job :D

 

When Ron saw an advert for a flatmate in the Daily Prophet he hadn’t imagined his life would take such a strange turn. First and foremost, he had never thought he’d end up sharing a flat with Cormac McLaggen of all people. He’d also never thought he’d end up listening to the aforementioned roommate wank five times a bloody day or that the bloody git would leave his door ajar while doing it. But of all the things in the world, Ron least expected that he would feel compelled to watch it.

The door to Cormac’s bedroom was open just enough for Ron to see the jogger-clad thighs and the strip of naked skin that revealed itself as Cormac’s t-shirt rode up on every upward stroke. It was a sight to say the least: grey joggers stretched over the top of muscular thighs, a flat stomach, flexing and unflexing, while a hand shot up and down a leaking prick.

Cormac was _fit_ and Ron blamed his unusual fascination with the man on that. And on the fact that Cormac moaned like a whale in heat while he wanked. One could hardly ignore that. It wasn’t that his moans were loud - they weren’t - but they were long and whiney and they made Ron wish he could see the expression on Cormac’s face before that last grumble was suddenly cut off and Cormac came all over his hand.

As usual, Ron quietly berated himself for being a creep and slinked away to the bathroom to tend to his own boner while Cormac’s post-orgasmic wheezing calmed. Ron mainly ascribed his arousal to the lack of girls in his life. After he and Hermione had broken it off he hadn’t had much luck with his love life. A pity lay or two after the break up and then he’d lost the taste for it. Now he only wanked five times a bloody day like a fucking weirdo. He blamed McLaggen for that.

Once in the bathroom Ron leaned against the door and pulled himself off in a few practiced strokes. He thought of nothing but the slide of his palm against his badly lubed dick. Fine, if he had to admit, once or twice, his mind _did_ stray to the image of a muscular wrist that he had got so used to observing.

"Weasley!” The shout, followed by three successive raps, came directly from the other side of the door. Ron cursed, shaken out of his thoughts.

“I need to wash my hands. I just wanked!” McLaggen shouted.

Ron would never get used to Cormac’s bluntness.

“I know!” he shouted back. “It was kind of hard to ignore!”

“Are you wanking too?” Cormac’s voice was lighthearted but Ron could hear the sincere interest under the joking tone.

“Nah,” he said, doing up his trousers as quietly as possible. Cormac didn’t need to know he lived with a creep. Yet.

“Fine!” Cormac shouted again. Ron didn’t know exactly why Cormac was yelling at the top of his voice, since only the poor, unsuspecting wooden door was standing in the way, but Cormac liked to shout, possibly because he liked hearing his own voice loud and clear. He was, after all, an obnoxiously self-important lad. “I’ll wash them in the kitchen sink!”

“NO!” Ron yelled back, not because he was self-important but because he needed to make absolutely sure that his words will penetrate McLaggen’s thick skull. “That’s disgusting! I don’t want your jizz in the fucking kitchen sink!”

Ron quickly washed his own hands, smoothed his slightly ruffled hair and stepped out of the bathroom. Cormac was standing directly behind the door and Ron almost knocked into his expansive chest. When their eyes met, Ron looked away shiftily. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Cormac grin widely.

“Ha!” Cormac said cheerfully. “You _did_ wank!” He clapped Ron on the shoulder as if that was some bloody achievement and shouldered past him into the bathroom. Before the door even clicked closed Ron’s ears were aflame.

  


\-----

 

It was five minutes past six and Weasley was still asleep. This would not do. It was summer and Cormac still didn’t have all 6 ab squares visible. That meant more cardio was in order. And cardio was done in the morning, fasted. Weasley had promised to be his jogging partner - after much grumbling, sure - but he’d promised after Cormac made a deal with him to wash the dishes for a month.

Without preamble, Cormac strode into Ron’s bedroom, walked right to the window overlooking the still sleepy Diagon Alley and pushed the curtains open. Feeble morning rays spilled into the room, some of them landing directly on Weasley’s snoring face.

“Morning sunshine!” Cormac said to the room before jumping on the bed next to a grumbling Ron. The red-head was finally showing the first signs of waking, but the whole process was taking much too long in Cormac’s opinion. Maybe some motion would speed up the process, he thought, and started bouncing on the bed. When that didn’t work, he pulled the covers off of the pale freckled body.

“Oi!” Ron yelled, indignant, probably because a slight stiffy was starting to make itself known in his pants. Cormac, a man known for transgressing personal boundaries, gently smacked Ron’s cock. “No time for this fella!” he declared over Weasley’s yelp. “We’re going jogging. Now.”

He stood up, stepped to the big pile of clothes in the corner and rummaged around for a pair of black cotton joggers. Adidas, he wrinkled his nose, but threw them at Ron for him to put on. When pressed for time, even Adidas had to do. He dug a bit deeper into the pile and pulled out a compression t-shirt as well. Underarmour. Now they were talking. He gave the armpits a sniff. Well… This, too, will have to do. He threw the top at Ron as well.

The t-shirt landed on the floor, as Weasley was busy pulling on the joggers. His deltoids stretched nicely at the movement and his forearms rippled when he pulled the elastic band over his hips. Ron’s body was actually starting to look like he lifted. He should fucking thank Cormac for making him hot.

Not much later, and to Cormac’s great misfortune, it turned out that Weasley was actually in pretty good running shape. Cormac’s body, though stronger, more muscular and all in all better looking, unfortunately, was _not_ cut out for running. Weasley seemed to jog with barely a bated breath, while Cormac was practically heaving after the first half mile. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, his hair was completely glued to his head and his legs, which were otherwise able to squat 150 kilos _easily_ , were burning like a bitch. The only thing that kept him going through the next miserable two miles was the thought of a perfect six pack.

In short, Cormac was pretty sure that cardio was the worst thing that had ever happened to his body.

  


\----

  


Ron had barely stepped into the flat, two grocery bags weighing heavily on his arms, when Cormac jumped up from the couch, immediately grabbing at the bags to relieve Ron of his burden. Instead of being pleased, Ron felt indignation bloom in his chest.

“I can handle it,” he grunted, though, if he was completely honest with himself, he wasn’t really handling it. The inordinate amounts of chicken and cottage cheese made him feel like he was transporting lead instead of food.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Cormac responded and practically tore one of the bags from his hand.

“Well, it’s your bloody fault, anyway. You eat so much food we’ll be broke by the middle of the month.”

“Well, I’m a big boy!” Cormac said proudly. And, well...while Ron wouldn’t really put it like _that,_ he couldn’t really argue with it either. Cormac _was_ a big boy. He was a good couple inches shorter than Ron, but he was also quite some generous inches wider than him. His shoulder to waist ratio made the most perfect inverted triangle.

By the time Ron stopped thinking about Cormac’s wide shoulders, the grocery bags were out of his hands and on the way to the kitchen. Cormac threw them onto the table and started unpacking them, his face lighting up with childlike wonder with every packet of chicken breast he took out.

“Oooooh, my god!” Cormac sighed when he got to the bottom of the bag. He looked as if he had received the best Christmas present in years. “You bought protein ice cream! Fuck, bro. I love you!”

And then Cormac hugged him. Over protein ice cream. This man really loved his muscles.

Cormac, Ron found, hugged in a weird way. For the most part of the hug the recipient thought they were being tackled but the hug was also warm and very sincere and Ron couldn’t help but notice that Cormac smelled _nice_ for someone whose main goal was to sweat as much as possible in one day.

The hug went on and on and Ron was getting slightly uncomfortable, especially because Cormac kept whispering _love ya, bro_ in his ear. Ron cleared his throat three times before Cormac got the clue. Strong arms untangled from around his back and settled on his shoulders. Cormac beamed at him.

“Let’s watch a movie and absolutely trash this ice cream!” Mclaggen’s vocabulary was unusually violent for someone who looked so much like an eager dog most of the time.

“It’s 10 a.m.” Ron answered.

“I know! And it’s our rest day today! We can watch movies all day!” Cormac was currently jobless and also, apparently, completely unconcerned by that fact. The perks of being a spoilt rich boy.

Ron, however, worked at Weasley Wizard Wheezes and was, in fact, supposed to help George at the shop today. But it _was_ Saturday. Maybe he’d drop by in the afternoon. He only needed to finish some things in the lab.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Let’s watch a movie. But I’m choosing.”

They ended up watching Captain America, not because Ron chose the film, but because Cormac was very impressed by the shape of the actor’s pecs on the DVD cover. It was a good thing Ginny became such a film fan after Hogwarts. The extensive DVD collection in the flat, as well as the heavily charmed TV, were all her work. It wasn’t really generosity that made her equip Ron and Cormac’s flat with the Muggle technology, though. It was more the fact that she kept crashing at their place and watching the TV herself. In her words, she liked being here for the ‘chill vibe’, whatever that meant.

When Ron gave up on squabbling over the movie choice, they settled on the couch, a large container of ice cream in Cormac’s lap. Their thighs were pressed together, their shoulders almost overlapping. Cormac had annoyingly large shoulders. They were stupidly impractical in every aspect. He kept hitting door frames, he had trouble squeezing past people and right now he was preventing Ron from seating comfortably. Big shoulders were fucking stupid and Ron wasn’t sure _the aesthetic_ was a good enough reason for a person to blow up like a poorly conceived balloon.

As soon as the film started, Cormac’s eyes glued themselves to the screen. He watched intently, gasping, nodding and sighing every time something remotely interesting happened.

Suddenly, Ron’s tenth spoonful of ice-cream half-way to his mouth, Cormac’s breath hitched and he shuddered violently.

“I think my balls froze,” he whispered, horrified, looking down at the container in his lap. Ron laughed when Cormac started rubbing his cock through his trousers trying to warm it back up.

“Need some help?” left his mouth before his brain even caught on to what he was saying.

Cormac didn’t even flinch though, he nodded vigorously. “Could you blow on it?”

Ron, like Cormac's balls, froze. This was weird. It was, wasn’t it? Did friends do this? Help their mates unfreeze their balls? Cormac was looking at him expectantly, pushing his crotch in Ron’s direction, lifting off the couch. Ron looked down. The shape of Cormac’s cock was visible through the revealing grey joggers Cormac liked to wear. All those moments of surreptitiously watching Cormac wank flashed before his eyes. If Cormac’s cock froze, he’d never be able to wank again... The charitable thought of preserving Cormac’s fortune, made Ron bend down and blow a hot breath over his cock.

“Yesss, that’s nice. Warm,” Cormac sighed.

And it _was_ weird. Ron had never been so close to another penis before. Even weirder was that he didn’t really mind. He ghosted another hot breath over the fabric when Cormac stopped moving completely. And then barked a deep laugh.

“Oh, well, yes,” he laughed again, “it’s alive.” He pushed Ron back and gestured towards his crotch with both of his hands as if trying to convey a silent _ta-da!_ “Vlad the Impaler up and ready to strike!”

Instead of embarrassed, Cormac seemed proud at his quickly resuscitated cock which was now more than half-way to a full-blown stiffy. Ron’s face burned bright red, filled with enough embarrassment for two - partly because he was probably the reason for Cormac’s stiffy, and partly because Cormac had just called his cock _that_. Ron turned back to the TV. It took them a few minutes to focus back on the film, but soon enough Cormac was balancing the ice cream on an extra pillow in his lap, digging in enthusiastically again.

When McLaggen finally started to talk, Ron knew everything was back to normal again. Cormac loved to comment during the movies. Ron hated it with a passion, but there was literally no stopping him. He once threw a Silencing Charm at his flatmate, but then Cormac tackled him and Ron was bullied into taking it off. So, he learned to accept the _ooohs_ and the _aaahhs,_ as well as the _what a bastard-s_ and _traitor cunt-s._ Occasionally, Cormac even put together a full sentence.

“I’m basically Captain America,” he said when Steve Rogers stepped out of that transformation coffin or whatever it was called.

“Not even close.” Ron snorted, though he privately agreed. Cormac was, at least appearance-wise, a lot like Captain America. Unfortunately, he was nothing like him personality-wise. Dumber, shallower and much more annoying. To be frank, Ron had been questioning his claims of Gryffindor bravery for some time now, too.

“You’re right. I have a better arse,” Cormac agreed when he saw Steve Rogers running barefoot down the street. “He’s still hot as fuck, though.” He nodded, seriously.

“Are you gay?” Ron blurted, his eyes, too, now fixed on the arse on the screen.

“Nah,” Cormac mumbled around the spoon.

A few moments had passed, the action scene unfolding on the TV, when out of the corner of his eyes Ron saw Cormac tilt his head. “Hmmm,” Cormac pondered. “I’d still fuck him, though.”

Ron almost choked on his saliva. “That,” he said, after he regained his composure, “is at least a little bit gay.”

Cormac looked at him, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess I don’t discriminate between good arses.”

A wide grin stretched across Cormac’s face, while his brown eyes bore into Ron’s, and Ron had never, in his entire life, been so acutely aware of his own buttocks as he was in that moment.

  


\-----

 

After their excruciating rest day the day before, Ron and Cormac were back in the gym ready to pump some iron. The gym was Cormac’s temple. It was Cormac’s church. A church where gods were made, not celebrated. A church where prayer wasn’t two hands gripping each other, but two hands gripping a cold iron bar.

Cormac felt right at home there. He was, after all, a god in the making. He walked past a mirror and flexed his triceps. It popped out satisfactorily.

“What is even the point of that t-shirt?” Ron gestured at Cormac’s new vest top.

“Oh, this? My new gear. Cool, innit?” Cormac loved his new top. It was breezy, and it made him look twice bigger as big as he really was. The vest had two strings in the place of sleeves and the neckline hung low enough for it to be renamed to ‘stomachline’.

“It’s literally not hiding anything…” Ron looked at the top sceptically.

And true, the top didn’t really hide anything, but then again Cormac didn’t see why it should. Bodies like his shouldn’t be hidden.

He smacked Ron’s arse and said with a grin, “Nips for the peeps!”

Ron rolled his eyes but laughed anyway.

Today was leg day, a day that demanded his uttermost concentration, but somehow Cormac was finding it difficult to focus. The fleeting echo of ‘are you gay’ was constantly bouncing inside his brain. He made a half-arsed attempt at warm up and quickly moved on to doing sets of squats. Squats always cleared his mind.

They helped a bit but when he saw Weasley doing deadlifts all went downhill. He kept alternating between trying to gauge his reaction to Ron’s arse and his reaction to the arse of the girl lunging in the corner. When that didn’t help him determine which he fancied better, he started comparing men’s pecs to women’s boobs. 

He thought and thought until he got a major headache. The only conclusion he came to was that he simply loved sweaty bodies, be they attached to sweaty scrotes or sweaty fannies.  When he failed his squat max for the third time (due to emotional distress), he petulantly called it a day and, to Ron’s dismay, left the gym for the gym bar where he drowned his sorrows in three large extra thick protein shakes.

 

  
\----

  


For the first time in months, their flat was close to clean. Ron and Cormac had been sweeping and Scourgifying all day, while also cooking and baking in between bouts of cleaning. It was Cormac’s birthday and he had invited virtually everyone he knew to his party. Or didn’t know. Ron doubted Cormac was even aware of the existence of that bloke in the corner who was chugging beer from a clay plant pot. To the man’s great misfortune the pot had a hole at the bottom, so, no matter how much beer he poured into it, half of it ended up trickling down his ugly Hawaiian shirt. Moreover, Cormac most certainly didn’t know that old lady, who was swinging her hips to the beat of Lil John. He had probably seen her on the street, thought her green-viper coloured glasses were ‘rad’, and ended up inviting her to the party.

Ron didn’t think Cormac was going for a theme but he (predictably) ended up with a Gym Bro themed birthday party. There was plenty of alcohol to go around but there were numerous bottles of Gatorade strategically placed around the flat because, in Cormac’s words, ‘Mate, you gotta hydrate’ (which, frankly, was a slogan Cormac should totally pitch to some sports company). Cormac had also insisted they bake protein muffins, which were levitating on plates around the sitting room. There was also a protein shake self-service station in the kitchen. Ron had never seen anything stupider, but Cormac claimed there was no better way to show one’s love for one’s mates than sharing your whey with them. _My whey, your whey_ , he’d said, and Ron, knowing how bloody attached Cormac was to his Coconut-White Chocolate flavoured Ironmaxx, couldn’t help but agree.

Ron was sitting on the couch a comfortable buzz in his ears, whether from the music or the Firewhiskey, he didn’t know. He was observing the people at the party. They looked like they were having fun. Angelina was teaching the grandma with green glasses how to twerk, George and Millicent were arm wrestling and, to George’s utter horror, Millicent was winning big time and she didn’t even look like she was trying. Ginny, Hermione and Luna were all laughing at the man who insisted on drinking from the clay pot. Hermione, the only sensible one, was casting charms to prevent the spurt of beer ruining their floor.

Cormac, to Ron’s great amusement, was talking to Malfoy at the other side of the room. Or rather talking _at_ Malfoy, since the Slytherin didn’t look all that ready to participate. Actually, Malfoy looked like he was choking. Ron was almost starting to worry when his best friend threw himself on the couch next to him.

“Bored?” Harry asked.

“Nah,” Ron replied, “just unused to alcohol. I think I’m already drunk.” His words weren’t slurring yet, so he supposed there was still some hope for him.

“McLaggen really is something, isn’t he?” Harry snorted when Cormac threw an arm around Harry’s stiff-backed boyfriend, who looked like he had recovered from his coughing fit. “Draco likes to pretend he can’t stand him, but I think he’s actually fascinated by him.”

“Fascinated?” Ron echoed. He’d never really considered it, but now that he did, Cormac really _was_ fascinating. Weird. Yet fascinating.

“Well, to be exact, he calls him repellingly appealing.” Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“Harry.” Ron turned to Harry, suddenly serious. He squinted his eyes in order to make Harry’s face stop shimmering at the edges. Maybe he was more drunk than he’d thought.

“Ron,” Harry answered in a mock grave tone.

“When did you figure out you liked both the chirps and the buzzes?”

“What?” Harry snorted in reply.

“You know.” Ron waved his arms trying to recall the exact wording. “The tweets and the stings. Ah! The birds and the bees!” He finally remembered the Muggle phrase his dad had taught him some months ago.

“I think you should revise the use of this phrase, Ron,” Harry said through laughter. “Okay, yeah, you’re serious,” he continued when Ron kept looking at him expectantly.

“In all honesty, I don’t really know when I figured it out. It wasn’t a sudden realization. It was more...gradual in a way, gradual, but it grew exponentially stronger and then one day I couldn’t really ignore it anymore.” Harry wasn’t all that good at explanations, Ron’s inebriated mind noted, but he did sort of make sense.

“You know how I’ve always been obsessed with Malfoy at Hogwarts,” Harry continued, waving at his boyfriend across the room. “But Malfoy aside, I remember the first time I met - and don’t hit me or something - the first time I met Bill, I thought he was so handsome and cool.” Harry completely ignored Ron’s shocked _eww, my brother!_ and went on.

“And then the Triwizard Tournament happened and I would get all awkward around Cedric and I remember I kept thinking how hot he was. And then there was also Krum. I think my admiration for his flying skills went way past heterosexual appreciation. Sure, he was a great flier but I also found myself watching his physique in great-”

Harry went on but Ron didn’t hear him anymore. All he saw in his mind was Krum flying high above the stadium, Krum walking into the Great Hall, the small Krum figurine that he’d kept in his bedside drawer prancing on his nightstand. He remembered Krum taking Hermione to the Yule Ball and how confused Ron was for feeling jealous over _both_ of them.

“Bugger,” Ron managed to choke out. Harry hadn’t stopped talking, though. He was prattling on about how he felt when he saw Malfoy again after the war, how they started hooking up. His voice was a distant sound to Ron’s ears, while he sat there open-mouthed, his brain churning out the last bits of lucid thoughts it possessed.

He looked across the room where Cormac, who had lost his t-shirt somewhere along the way, was now instructing Seamus and Dean on proper squat form. The two were a lot less interested in squats and a lot more interested in seeing Cormac pop his arse out on every downard move and thrust his groin out every time he stood up. And who could blame them, really - Ron could watch it all day.

“Buggery bugging fuck,” he whispered.

Harry finally stopped, following Ron’s eyes to a sweaty, topless Cormac Mclaggen.

“Oh,” Harry said, realization slowly but unstoppingly dawning on him. “ _Oh_. Oh no. Oh, no, no no, but this is _brilliant_.”

Dean was on Cormac’s shoulders and Cormac was squatting him while yelling _Everyday is leg day!_ Harry’s eyes welled up with poorly contained tears of mirth.

“Kill me now,” Ron groaned burying his head between his knees.

“Oh, the _irony_.” Harry still wouldn’t shut up. “Hermione will piss herself. Maybe she’ll give you some tips on how to accommodate his overenthusiastic tongue in your mouth.”

Ron didn’t have the energy to do anything more than emit another muffled groan and silently contemplate Harry’s murder while his best friend continued to laugh until tears were streaming down his cheeks.

  


\----

  


After Ron had asked Cormac if he was gay a few days earlier, Cormac had thought about it so much that he ended up completely unable to decide. Luckily, during the course of his birthday party, a wonderful solution presented itself to him. He took a few skippy steps to Malfoy, who was sneakily trying to hide the fact that he was already shoving a fifth protein muffin down his throat. Cormac knew, they were good. After all, he knew his protein.

“Drazz!” he said cheerily when he got to Malfoy, thumping him on the back. Malfoy almost swallowed up the muffin whole when his head bobbed forward.

“Ahh, Drazz Mazz.” Cormac chuckled when Malfoy started coughing. “My Drazzle Mazzazzle.”

“Stop. Butchering. My name,” Drazz wheezed, eyes watering. Cormac disregarded his objections. This was about the hundredth time Malfoy asked him that and for the hundredth time, Cormac refused to hear it.

“I have a question, Drazz,” Cormac said, when Draco recovered from his choking fit. Cormac slung an arm around his shoulder. “When did you decide you were bent?”

Malfoy didn’t look too impressed by the question, judging by his raised eyebrow. Cormac wasn’t fazed by it, though. Drazz practically took eyebrow-raising as a sport. He rose his eyebrows like Cormac rose his weights. With authority and intent.

“I didn’t _decide_ I was bent,” Malfoy replied. “I simply _was_ bent all along.”

“Good job!” Cormac slapped his free hand on Malfoy’s chest in encouragement. His pectorals needed some work, he thought when he squeezed Drazz’s left tit. “How does a bloke know, though?”

Malfoy looked pointedly at Cormac’s hand on his tits and his eyebrow shot even higher. “Well, see, McLaggen, it’s quite simple.”

Malfoy was finally going to give him an answer. Ah, Cormac loved this lad.

“You look at a man and if you want to - and I’ll say this in your vernacular, so don’t ever quote me on it - bang him, you pretty much have your answer. Not to mention you can like both you know. Men and women. You don’t need to pick.”

Cormac nodded seriously, then turned to look across the room at Ron. Ron was sat on the couch next to Harry, looking like he was having one of those drunk existential crises.

“Hmm,” Cormac pondered, trying to imagine sucking Ron’s cock. He probably had a nice cock. He also had nice shoulders. And pecs. Real nice quads too. He nodded. Yes. Yes, Malfoy, really was onto something with his theory.

“Are you fucking serious? ” Came from beside him. “Weasley?” Malfoy was looking between him and Ron. His shoulders had started to shake under Cormac’s arm. “Oh, this will be a disaster.” He looked much too happy for someone announcing a catastrophe.

Cormac looked back at Ron: his gaze was blank, bordering on horrified.

“Oh, yeah.” Cormac turned to Malfoy again with a grin. “I’d definitely bang him.”

“McLaggen, you just made my week,” Malfoy said with a smirk. “Mind if I give you some tips on how to woo Weasley?”

“You’d do that for me? Neat!” Cormac looked at Draco expectantly.

“The rule number one,” Malfoy began, “is to know what to call him. Weasel and Won Won are his favourite nicknames.”

Cormac nodded. It made sense. A nickname derived from your name was always good. Especially such an audibly pleasing one as Won Won. It had a great ring to it. A character.

“Rule number two,” Malfoy continued, “is to make him notice you every minute of every day. Do everything you’re already doing, but be even more you. Extra Cormac.”

Cormac nodded again. It made sense. All the articles with love advice told you to ‘just be you’. Cormac couldn’t see anything going amiss if he were even more himself. Extra Cormac, extra fun.

Malfoy continued talking, giving Cormac more tips and Cormac kept nodding along. When Malfoy was done, Cormac knew he was all set for his conquest. He slapped Malfoy on the back one more time and thanked him. Ready to get some dancing done, he stepped away, but he remembered one more thing he’d been itching to ask. He spun on his heel, facing Malfoy again.

“Oh, Drazz,” he called for Malfoy’s attention. “So…” he gestured at his bare torso with both his hands adding an extra jerky gesture above his crotch, “top or bottom?”

Drazz smirked that true Malfoy-brand smirk. “Oh, definitely a bottom.”

Cormac winked at him while doing the finger guns sign that he’d seen cool people do in the movies.

“Hip hip hooray for the homos, amirite?” he yelled.

There was no answering _hip hip hooray_ from Drazz, but Cormac knew that, deep down, he was rooting for the homos nonetheless.

  


\-----

  


Ron had expected things between him and Cormac to change after his sudden realization at the party, but he hadn’t expected he would start noticing Cormac on _every single step_. He didn’t know whether it was his own mind amplifying all of Cormac’s actions or if Cormac had simply gone berserk. Ron, himself, wasn’t far from joining him in the land of the unhinged.

The first thing that Cormac did that he’d never done before was call Ron _Weasel._ Ron quickly blamed it on Malfoy and Cormac gladly confirmed. A half-hour conversation about how, no, Malfoy was _not_ a great bro ensued. Yes, Ron had agreed, Malfoy wasn’t as big of an arse as he used to be, but he was not, under any circumstances, a _great bro._ Cormac (as he was wont to do) didn’t listen. He did stop calling Ron Weasel but things soon plummeted when he started calling him Won Won instead.

It took Ron three more days to convince him that no, he didn’t, in fact, secretly like this nickname either.

If Cormac’s new obsession with nicknames were the only peculiarity in his behaviour, Ron would have been able to simply ascribe it to the usual McLaggenish obnoxiousness. Unfortunately for him, though, the worst were not Cormac’s words, but his actions, which had Ron simultaneously painfully annoyed and even more painfully aroused in the span of a week.

For one, Cormac barely ever even wore a t-shirt anymore. He wasn’t any keener on trousers either. So Ron had to watch this sack of (gorgeous) muscles stroll around the flat all day long. But because the universe hated him, Cormac didn’t only stroll, he also did yoga (and, seeing how the only pose he really knew was the downward dog, Ron had to watch his firm arse on display at least ten times a day) And Cormac’s worst naked offence? He also danced. He danced while frying eggs, he danced while cleaning, he danced all the damn time and Ron was getting absolutely _sick_ of his thrusting hips and his poor attempts at twerking.

Of course, Cormac wouldn’t be Cormac if he hadn’t accompanied his dance moves with singing. He especially loved belting out that _Maea hi, maea ha_ song even though neither of them understood a single word. Another favourite was the song that went _This shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A,_ and Ron would be lying if he didn’t admit to hollering right along with the song while he and Cormac tried to mimic the cheerleading movements using dish cloths as pom-poms.

What really broke Ron, though, was the absolute obliteration of any and all personal space. He could be standing in the middle of the kitchen, three feet of space all around him, and yet Cormac would still feel the need to “squeeze past him”. Sometimes he’d slide against Ron’s back, his pecks softly brushing Ron’s lats. Sometimes he’d pass in front of him, back turned to Ron and his arse rubbing against his crotch. And sometimes he’d pass facing him, the words, “soz, just squeezing past,” blowing gently against Ron’s lips.

Currently, they were in the sitting room, music playing softly on the stereo (Backstreet Boys, if Ron was correct); Ron was in the armchair polishing his broom for the match they were organizing at the Burrow the next day, and Cormac, to Ron’s exasperation, was sat on the couch, eating an ice lolly while staring at him unblinkingly. Ron avoided the unsettling gaze, but there was no escaping the literal fellatio Cormac was performing on the lolly.

When Cormac pushed the stick of ice so far into his mouth that he choked, Ron finally snapped. He had been getting instant boners for a week and his cock was raw from wanking and he couldn’t take one more minute of this torture.

“Okay, that’s enough!” He threw down the polish along with the broom and stalked to where Cormac was sitting. “Stop fucking blowing an inanimate object,” he said and pulled the lolly out of Cormac’s mouth, throwing it across the flat, not caring where it landed.

Cormac only grinned and spread his arms over the top of the couch, leaning back. Ron almost had to slap himself to stop his eyes from straying down Cormac’s bare torso.

“What the fuck has got into you?” Ron asked, hearing his voice ascend in pitch. “What is _this_?” Ron waved first at Cormac’s smug face then at his obscenely spread body.

Cormac sighed as if Ron was too dumb to figure it out. “I’m flirting with you!”

“This is what you call flirting? This? I’ve been ready to murder you for five day-” Ron cut off, frozen. “Wha- you’ve been flirting with _me_?” His voice was so feeble and high-pitched that he sounded like a five-year-old.

“Yeah, bro!” Cormac responded, nodding along enthusiastically.

“Why?” Ron could barely believe it. All this sexual frustration could finally come to an end.

“Well, I decided that I like you,” Cormac offered. “And that I want to bang you,” he added, in case Ron didn’t get it.

Ron simply stared down at him open-mouthed. “I-”

The entire week Cormac had been flirting with him. And worst of all, it had _worked_. What kind of a person was he, to fall for these kinds of questionable displays of interest?

“I-” he didn't know what to say. I like you, too? Yup, I could do with some banging too? “Oh, screw this,” he finally said, deciding to call upon his Gryffindor bravery, and simply bent down to kiss Cormac on the lips.

“Oh, yeah baby,” Cormac whispered before their lips touched and he kissed back. Cormac, being himself, didn’t hesitate and immediately went for a sloppy, tongue-filled French kiss. Ron loved it.

When Cormac moaned under him, Ron tangled his hand in the curly dirty-blond hair and climbed into Cormac’s lap. He felt a hard cock poke him in the backside. Well, this was kind of new, he thought, rubbing himself back on it. Cormac groaned, then stopped all movement. He pushed Ron back.

“Wait,” he said breathily. “We need to switch, Malfoy said _I’m_ the bottom.”

“Wh- that is not how you should determine - you know what, nevermind.” If Cormac wanted to bottom, Ron definitely wouldn’t complain.

Cormac scrambled from below him and they both quickly got rid of whatever clothes they had. When Ron settled on the couch, Cormac climbed on top of him, immediately sealing their lips back together. “Mmm, I like this,” he moaned into Ron’s mouth, rocking back on his cock caught between their bodies. Ron groaned in agreement. He really liked this too. He grabbed Cormac’s arse to show him just how much.

“Let me just,” Cormac muttered and bent sideways to retrieve his wand from the couch. He swished it behind his back twice, whispering an unknown charm. When he turned his attention back to Ron, there was a wicked glint in his eyes and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “Taught myself some stretching and slickening charms as soon as I found out I’m bi. Now, I’m ready for your cock, Won Won.”

Ron laughed, but his laughter was soon silenced when Cormac reached between them, took his cock in hand and aligned it with his hole. “You’re so fucking hot, Ron,” Cormac practically growled before lowering himself on Ron’s cock.

Ron wanted to tell him that he was hot too, but he couldn’t do anything bar let out a loud unrestrained moan as tightness enveloped him. “Fuck. Oh fuck, so good,” he heard himself say, when Cormac started to move, to ride him. If Ron had thought Cormac was loud doing everyday activities, it was nothing compared to how loud he was during sex. His hands were on Ron’s shoulders and Ron’s hands around Cormac’s strong torso, while Cormac moaned and moaned until the world fell away and Ron didn’t know whose gasps and groans, his own or Cormac’s, he was hearing anymore.

Faintly, through the mist of bliss, Ron heard something that he frankly wanted to pretend he didn’t hear. Unfortunately, it was hard to fake deafness when the raps on the door were strong enough to echo through the entire flat. Cormac cursed and stopped moving.

“What the fuck is that?” He looked mightily pissed off. Understandably, so, too, as his body was flushed and sweaty from sex and his dick was leaking precome onto Ron’s belly.

“Magical Law Enforcement Patrol,” sounded from the outside of the door. “Please, open up!”

The voice sounded familiar. It also sounded very much like the person was barely containing laughter. Oh, if this was a prank, Ron would cut off their balls.

Cormac grumbled, got off of Ron’s lap and stalked to the door stark naked. Before he could open the door and scare some unsuspecting stranger with his cock, Ron ran after him, blanket in hand and, just in time, wrapped it around both of them.

When the door swung open, his gaze first fell on two very familiar people in red Auror robes. Harry and Malfoy, upon sighting Ron and Cormac, started cracking up. Harry had to seek support from the door jamb to stay upright. Next to them, their old neighbour, Mr Portendorfer stood shuffling from foot to foot.

“Hazz, Drazz!” Cormac greeted their friends, no longer annoyed. “And Mr Dorf!” he greeted the wrinkly wizard as well. “How do you do?”

“Ah, very well, thank you,” the old man replied, not meeting his eyes. “And you?”

“Great!” Cormac said, happily. “Me and Ron were just banging!”

Harry slapped a hand over his mouth. Malfoy cleared his throat.

“We were-” Malfoy started, but had to stop to swallow down laughter, “- summoned by Mr Portendorfer due to a breach of the peace. He told us that there’d been an immense ruckus in this flat for the entire week and that it only escalated today, so he called because he was worried the-” Malfoy’s shoulders started shaking “- the grunts and slaps meant that you started throwing punches.”

If Ron thought he was embarrassed before, the blood slamming up into his face made him reconsider. His cheeks were positively flaming.

“Ahh, nah,” Cormac replied, completely unfazed. “Just having a bit of a fondle.”

Ron wished he would stop fucking talking.

“Yes,” Harry spoke for the first time, completely red in the face, too, but for a different reason. “We noticed when we came here.”

“Well,” Malfoy drawled, smirking. “I suppose we’ve settled it then. Thank you for calling us Mr Portendorfer, we shall take it from here. Some paperwork to fill out, but no more than a warning to use the Silencing Charm next time.”

The neighbour nodded looking relieved. He turned and, as quickly as his legs allowed, walked away from them.

Cormac, helpful as he always was, shouted after him. “You owe me an orgasm, Mr Dorf!”

Harry and Draco doubled over, tears streaming freely down their cheeks while Ron stood there, defeated, wishing death would come and strike him with its scythe before this story made its way to Molly Weasley. Knowing Cormac, he’d be the one to tell it, too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I literally paid no attention to what makes sense time-wise, like what song came out when and how old the characters were. Whatever, time is an illusion and nothing really exist. 
> 
> Hope you had fun reading!


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